Judge, 1893-12-09 · page 37 of 52
Judge — December 9, 1893 — page 37: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains four separate humorous illustrations typical of early-20th-century Judge magazine: 1. **"Philanthropic"** (top left): A dialect-humor cartoon featuring a Black woman offering "flapper-jacks" (pancakes) to a cold child—playing on contemporary racial stereotypes and working-class speech patterns. 2. **"The Lost Found"** (top right): An Asian character excitedly recognizing a cat-fish as his "brother Hop Wink from Pickin'"—ethnic humor based on broken English and implied unfamiliarity with Western animals. 3. **"A Little Vision"** (center): A prose piece about Christmas overeating causing vivid dreams of ascending to heaven, interrupted by someone asking if he's practicing Hamlet—social humor about excess and pretension. 4. **"Sporting Dog" and "We All Hope He Got Him"** (bottom): Two cartoon vignettes—one showing a dog with a cold, another depicting Mr. and Mrs. Peasley hunting a skunk—gentle domestic humor about rural/suburban life. The page exemplifies Judge's reliance on ethnic stereotypes, dialect humor, and genteel social satire typical of the era.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
PHILANTHROPIC, Mrs. Weezky—* Pore chile! yo’ looks pow'ful cold ‘n mizzerble. Jes’ tie a couple ob dese flapper-jacks on yo’ ears, Dey’s right off'n de stove.” THE LOST FOUND. Aut Five (tho Aas caught a cat-fisk)—" By th’ gleat whitee dlagon! it is my blother Hop Wink from Plekin.”” A LITTLE VISION. | HAD panaken so heantly of the Christmas feast that I welcomed sleep as I never wel- comed it before. No wonder that I got up a little nightmare of my own, I saw myself rising gently upward, and then, with birds for company, I saw myself poised upon a steeple. The glow of glory was on my face, and ad- miring hosts looked on and wondered. Higher and higher through the ether I soared until a glimpse of the gates of heaven filled me with joy ineffable. 1 improvised a paean of praise, and my soul reveled in thoughts of ‘d blow by dose. I"b dot worth a scedt.” Srortinc poc—" Oh, dear! I hab got a beastly cote id by head. I wish subbody WE ALL HOPE HE GOT HIM. Mrs. PEASLEY: Mr. PEASLE’ ‘What you after, father—rats?” They’s a pesky skunk round here somewheres.” paradise. Higher and higher grew my jubilant song until— some one from below came in and wanted to know if I were practicing the part of Hamlet. It was a rude awakening, and the best I could do was to beg earnestly for an applica- tion of ice to my poor head and for some nostrum that would re-arrange my internal econ- omy. This tale is told not only to show that I can enjoy a night- mare at my own expense, but chiefly as a warning to those unthinking mortals whose appe- tites now and then run away with them, y comicbooks.com